


That Famous Happy Ending

by kitamomo



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cinderella Event, Grey Area - Freeform, I love the bittersweetness of youth it gives me life, I'm sorry if this is weird, M/M, budding romance that can't push through, i'm thinking of writing a sequel or an alternate ending what do you guys think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 16:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15912300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitamomo/pseuds/kitamomo
Summary: As Yumenosaki's Cultural Festival draws near, Keito is troubled over his sudden participation in the Theatre Club's play. He summons Kuro to the Student Council room to trust him with his concerns, to which the latter once again offers his eager assistance. During their first practice session together, a vague exchange stirs them to realize that Their Dance was more difficult to manage with four left feet.





	That Famous Happy Ending

“Well then, I’ll be taking my leave now. I’d normally offer to keep you company, but with how busy things are getting, resting is nowhere in the Student Council’s agenda this week.”

With a firm nod, Kuro watched as Isara Mao hastily took his leave. The School Festival was upon them, and numerous preparations were underway, especially for the organizers. Not a moment was to be wasted on idle chatter, and Kuro was very familiar with that already.

He sat quietly in the empty Council Room, recounting the previous events which have led him –and his unit, to this unprecedented situation. He slouched over the wooden coffee table, over what looked like a jampacked gift bag; the usual furrowed stare as he peered over what was inside.

Fabric. Fancy fabric.

Not just any fancy fabric, but a dress especially sewn for the Evil Stepmother.

Due to time constraints, they had somehow ended up helping out with the Theater Club’s show, which they initially thought was a splendid idea until they found out they were going to be _in_ the show themselves. _‘The sumo idea’s still open if he’s game for it,’_ Kuro thought upon leaning back into the chair.

The sky was turning orange out the window. Perhaps by this time, Hasumi had already finished patrolling around the clubs and is making his way back here. Kuro smiled fondly as he allowed his thoughts to wander a little; on how content he was to have ended up in Akatsuki with Hasumi, on how stubbornly diligent the guy was as the vice president, and on how far their relationship built on mutual trust has progressed since first meeting.

A certain rush of joy zinged through his veins with every instance their relationship was compared to that of an old married couple’s, or every time Keito would affirm how grateful he was for having Kuro around to take care of some unit-related concerns, to name the least. Even just idly talking was already a comfort.

The phrase _‘Kiryuu, I need you’_ was music to his ears, and the gods knew he would drop everything to make things easier for the dear, overworked lord he was so proud of.

Kuro closed his eyes in thought, when he finally heard the door snap open. Keito enters, his usually parted hair a disheveled mess.

“Kiryu, have you been waiting long? Let me settle down for a bit, then we can get started.” Keito huffed, the strain evident in his voice. “I’ll go make us some tea.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Kuro replied as he stood up. “ ‘sides… All that’s left ‘s English tea. Stuff’s not really my thing.”

Keito reached for a cup and poured in some freshly boiled tea from the pot. Carefully raising the heated ceramic to his lips, he blew at the rising steam to take a sip. _‘Ah, thank god it’s still hot. I’ll have to thank Isara for tending to my selfish request later.’_

“So,” Kuro grunted, “What’s this about? When ya said ya needed me, I kinda thought it’d be somethin’ urgent.”

Keito paused for a few seconds to compose himself. “I’ll get straight to the point,” he began, stiffly striding over to join his companion by the coffee table. “It’s about my costume for the Theatre Club’s show.”

Kuro shifted in his seat, looking a little disappointment. “Oh.”

His eyebrows creased as Keito settled down on the president’s chair, a spot the boy had more or less grown comfortable in through the years. “’s that all? Ya coulda just taken it up with Itsuki, ya know. ‘sides I’m not really good with all the frilly stuff anyway.”

The vice president sighed. The atmosphere soured as Kuro’s piercing stare followed his movements in stubborn protest.

“Listen, I’m not exactly in the best mindset to entertain anything else at the moment,” he replied, taking out several folders from underneath the desk. “And as for Itsuki, I find it difficult to hold a proper conversation with him, with how busy we both are.”

Keito sighed, sliding a finger under his glasses to rub an eye. “Incorrigible… For you to even _think_ about making me wear this.”

Kuro shrugged and slid back into the sofa, now somewhat amused by his leader’s reactions. _Hasumi-danna might seem a little stressed about the situation, but he hasn’t really said he hated it, did he?_ The redhead smirked in his seat, cocking his head downward in an attempt to hide it.

Keito glared. “What, if I may ask, is so funny? I couldn’t move around without stepping on the damn thing. If I make a blunder, my reputation –and possibly our unit’s –may be sullied.”

“I dunno, Hasumi. Akatsuki and comedy might be somethin’—”

“Tell Itsuki to alter this at once.”

Kuro sighed. If there was anyone in Yumenosaki he knew the most about, it was his childhood friend, Shu Itsuki. The former Sovereign had surely gotten every measurement down to a T, thus requesting him to alter any of his creations would certainly insult him.

“We’ve got enough trouble as it is,” he replied. “I’m sure Hasumi- _danna_ ’d be able to turn any situation to his favor.”

Keito sneered at the remark and crossed his arms. “Are you telling me,” he began, “to put this on and waltz around in it?” He then readjusted his glasses and continued staring coldly at his companion as if to reinforce his authority. “Incorrigible.”

“You’ll figure somethin’ out by practicin’ in it,” Kuro replied, trying to keep his tone as matter-of-factly as possible. “If ya managed performin’ in heels, then this’ll just be an ant bite to ya.” To be honest, although he had volunteered to assist Shu with this play’s costumes, he had only gotten a glimpse of what his beloved --no, esteemed lord would be wearing.

All he knew was that Keito was going to be in a pretty dress, and that alone would already have been the highlight of his entire three years in the academy. Well, one of the highlights anyway.

“Me, walking around in a constricting hoopskirt when I could be working?” Keito protested.

“If ya think of it as a lesson, then it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.” Kuro nudged, suppressing a grin. “I’ll even help ya with the waltzin’ part in the middle.”

Keito raised an eyebrow and lowered his glance in suspicion. “You can dance?” he asked, “Well, of course you can --but you can _dance?”_

“I could even change into my outfit if it’ll get you settled.” Kuro added, slightly hopeful.

“Incorrigible.” With a light smack on the taller boy’s head, Keito dismissed the suggestion and walked towards a corner in the room to change into the ridiculous dress. “The sooner we get this over with, the better,” he remarked as he began to unbutton his uniform.

Kuro watched silently as the sleeves slid effortlessly down Keito’s shoulders, dropping to the floorboards to reveal the rest of his leader’s slender figure.

The way the dimming sunlight touched every inch and curve made Keito look all the more astonishing to behold, with just the right amount of glowing light to accentuate the leanness of his figure. Keito moved along to the sound of their silence, with every graceful gesture leading Kuro deeper and deeper down his awestruck trance.

The loyal retainer, watching over his lord in reverence. That’s how it’s always been between them, and a sharp sting struck through his chest the more he thought about it.

“Do ya want me to turn the lights on for you, _danna?_ ” he asked upon noticing the other boy struggling to find the dress’ front end.

Keito rustled clumsily into his outfit, though even upon doing so remained elegant and precise with his movements. “There’s no need,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I don’t want anyone seeing this.”

Kuro fell back into silence as he watched the other try to find his way through folds of green fabric. After a few more clumsy rustles, the dress had finally managed to rest on Keito’s shoulders. Hastily zipping up the back, Keito sighed and gathered a handful of the skirt fabric in his hands, making his way over to Kuro as if walking over numerous invisible puddles.

 _‘Mister Handicrafts Club President, you’ve done it again,’_ Kuro thought, upon seeing his dear leader donning the full ensemble. _‘Maybe it’d be great to volunteer bein’ extras for Hibiki more often.’_

“You’re spacing out,” Keito grunted, finally reaching his partner. “I knew this was stupid.”

“Actually ya might just be the prettiest ugly stepmother ever.” Kuro answered, earning him a thwack on the head with a prop fan.

“All right then, Mister Dancer. You promised me a practice, and I expect nothing less from a member of my esteemed unit.” Keito grinned stretching out his arms towards the other. Butterflies pooled down Kuro’s stomach the moment Keito’s hand gently rested on his shoulder, and he stood frozen as his Lord’s other hand hung in the air, waiting for him to take it.

An impatient sigh. “This probably wasn’t such a good idea after all,” Keito uttered. “It’s only making things difficult.” He then let out another sigh, followed by the withdrawal of his free hand to fix his glasses. “I can’t believe I’m letting Eichi’s clown toy with me like this…”

Kuro grimaced at the last remark. Carefully moving a little closer, he finally reached out to hold the other boy’s hand; and from there, recovered their dance position. Keito looked up in astonishment, blinking and sweating underneath his partner’s smirk.

“Hasumi,” Kuro uttered, “Stop worryin’ about Fine for a second and concentrate on what it is ya actually want to do.”

Silence.

At this time both stood still in the faint light of the setting sun –hand in hand, their chests ensnared in overflowing streams of unspoken anxiety.

Keito paused thoughtfully as he lowered his gaze, fully aware of what was happening before him.

There standing right in front of him was a man, an ally he had gone through so much with; close enough to quake his very core as his face grew warm. What was once fear had ripened into trust, which eventually led into… well, _something._

All this needed was one final push. One little nudge more to certainty, but the surrounding air grew thicker as Keito averted his gaze. In just a matter of minutes, the light outside had completely gone, and the pair remained still in the darkness.

Across the window, a flickering lamppost stood as the only light source. By now most of the students had already gone, and they stood with sweaty palms still interlocked, with Keito distancing himself within the other’s arms, teetering along the borders of wistful unease.

Kuro’s eyes fell fixed on the fabric shimmering faintly in the dim light, the pulse in his ears beating louder and louder by the second. He hadn’t noticed when his arm had wrapped around Keito’s waist, and what should have been seconds felt much longer now that he was fully aware of the other’s breathing in his embrace.

A quiet dance in the dark, where neither had taken the first step –though there was no music playing, the pair had somehow arrived to a mutual understanding. But like the lamppost outside that was moments from dying down, it was time for all of this to stop, for the curtains to drop on their unfortunate tale.

“Hasumi,” Kuro asked again, “It’s gettin’ dark. Want me to switch the lights on?”

Lowering his gaze, Keito shook his head and slowly broke free from Kuro’s arms. Gathering the dress by the hem, he quietly turned away and began walking into the dark corner he had previously dressed in.

This was it –this was his answer.

The answer which finally cleared the blur and put an end to this fairytale.

After all, for what reason did they need to go this far, when this play was nothing more than a muddled comedy meant for passing the time? It was senseless to take this all too seriously –and yet there they were, standing in the dark despite the lighthearted nature of this whole mess. Kuro felt his weight sink down to the pits of his stomach as he made out Keito’s silhouette taking the dress off, to get back into his school uniform later on. The annoying lamp outside had finally gone out for good.

The vice-president reached into his breast pocket and held out a tiny piece of metal which gleamed in the moonlight’s glow; and Kuro frowned wistfully at the sight of it, unable to utter anything else as he watched Keito pin the Student Council’s emblem over his heart.

“It’s just as I thought,” Keito finally said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do it after all.”

Kuro choked on his silence as Keito took out his phone and started punching in something. By the white light reflecting on his glasses, he was texting someone –someone who wasn’t Kuro, by the lack of a notification the moment Keito hit ‘send.’

Slinging his school bag around his arm, he gave one last glance at Kuro’s slouched figure blending into the room’s shadows. He swallowed hard, and quietly took flight.

The loyal retainer, submitting to the will of his lord in reverence. That’s how it’s always been between them, and a sharp sting struck through his chest the more he thought about it.

After all, for what other purpose but devotion does a retainer exist?

And what was a mere retainer to an _Emperor?_

Kuro stood in the stillness of the room as the door clicked. Soon the ringing in his ears had turned fuzzy, and the steadying beat of his own heart was all he could feel. He looked numbly towards the dark, sullen corner in which the beautiful gown had been discarded. Finally walking toward it, Kuro desperately tried to straighten its creases to no avail, before carefully pushing it back into its bag.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been ages since I’d last written anything, so I hope that wasn’t too bad. Thank you very much for taking the time to read this, though it ended up being a little heavier than intended... This fic is full of underlying things, so I hope that came out well...
> 
> In any case, thank you very much again for reading my first fic! I hope people come back to read my next ones…
> 
> I’ll definitely write something happy and fluffy next. I’m way better at writing fluff, I promise. Ah, Please feel free to drop a comment, maybe? ;w;
> 
> And if you'd be interested in KuroKei art... I'm @yongmao_krk on Twitter ^^;
> 
> -monty


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